The Rain Was Unstoppable
by Frankiesmypansy
Summary: Dean has to drive across the country by himself, that is, until Cas shows up.


Dean sighed as the Impala purred underneath his feet as he sped down I20 in early April. It had been raining constantly for the past three days, and the melancholy overcast sky was starting to kill the good mood he'd been in since he'd managed to gank a poltergeist that'd been terrorizing a little boy. The kid had reminded him of Sammy at that age. It had given him chills when the boy had turned around from playing with his Legos, all big hazel eyes and floppy brown hair. He'd taken it almost personally that the menacing spirit had taken up residence in the boy's home and psyche. When Dean had finally ganked the thing, he'd gone out for celebratory drinks, alone.

Sam was stilled holed up at Bobby's house with a broken leg after he'd tripped over his overtly long limbs, and fallen down a short set of stairs. They hadn't missed the irony that they'd escaped the troll they'd been hunting unscathed, only to be taken down by a set of stairs, and a misplaced foot. So, Dean was alone on the road, and going stir crazy. He'd gone through all of his tapes an obscene number of times. He'd never admit it to Sam, but he could only listen to the same set of songs so many times before the monotony became too much.

Dean reached for the dial and managed to get a local classic rock station. At least they were playing something besides Zeppelin and Sabbath. It continued to poor big, fat, early spring raindrops on the windshield of his baby; the windshield wipers creating a methodical swoosh-swish sound as they worked overtime to keep the road visible. It was still early enough in the season that without the sun's rays, it was a little chilly outside. Dean hunkered down into the leather seat of the Impala, seeking warmth, and made a mental note that at the next truck stop, he'd get his leather jacket out of the backseat.

It was another twenty minutes of low music flowing from the speakers, and the whir of the road noise outside the window, before Dean heaved another sigh. He was tired of the lonely road; it wasn't the same without Sammy beside him. They didn't always talk while on the road, but the silence wasn't quite as suffocating as it was when he was on his own. It was another five minutes before Dean caved and called upon the only other friend he had at the moment.

"Cas, if you're not busy, get your fluffy ass down here. I'm on the highway somewhere outside of Coleman, Texas."

There was the sound of ruffling fabric and fluttering wings. Dean didn't have to turn his head to know that his angel had touched down in the front seat of the Impala.

"Hello, Dean. You called." Castiel's head cocked to the side, facing Dean. It wasn't a question, Cas' inflection said it was a statement, but Dean answered it anyway.

"Yeah, Cas. I still have ten hours before I hit Bobbies. I didn't interrupt some big Heavenly business, did I?"

"No. I was merely conferring with allies."

Dean knew it had probably been a more important meeting than Cas was letting on, but he refused to feel guilty about it. In fact, he kind of felt warm for the first time in a few days, now that the angel of Thursday was in the car. Castiel seemed to understand that Dean didn't need conversation as much as he needed to pass the time in someone else's company. He was quiet in the passenger seat.

Tension Dean hadn't even realized was settled in his shoulders and upper back released little by little as a soothing presence of an angelic being filled the cab. Dean had noticed that more and more Castiel was reaching out to Dean with what Dean could only assume was Cas' grace, calming him, easing his worries and anxieties about Sam, Bobby, the apocalypse. They hadn't mentioned it. Dean was avoiding those conversations until he had more time to figure out exactly how he was going to verbalize his epiphany without sounding like a complete and total girl, but he was thankful. Dean kind of felt like Cas' knew that.

The opening riff to Tom Petty's _Running Down a Dream_ drifted through the speakers, and Castiel reached forward to turn up the dial. He hesitated, looking up at Dean for reassurance that he wasn't breaking some kind of passenger code. Dean had briefed him on the etiquette of riding shotgun, and Castiel had taken it to heart. Dean gave him a nod. He hadn't heard this song in a long while, and it was perfect for driving on the open highway. Cas sat back in his seat with a contented sort of sigh, or as close to one as an Angel can manage.

"I heard this song while I was in a store purchasing supplies. I grew fond of it."

Dean made an approving sound in his throat, at Cas' stone. He seemed to be seeking approval from Dean. They'd been having little music lessons when time allowed. Dean gave a small smile.

"It's a good choice, Cas, a classic. I haven't listened to Petty in, man, in years. Damn _the Torpedoes_ is one of the greatest rock albums that no one talks about."

Dean knows that he's going a little over Cas's head, and that the angels is simply agreeing with him out of courtesy. Later Cas will probably ask Sam or Bobby to explain to him what determines an album of music to be "great" and they'll look at him like he's lost his marbles. There's an apocalypse going on, and his angel will be researching classic rock. It makes Dean's heart warm. It's enough.

As the guitar riff fades into the beginning lyrics, the clouds part, the rain stops, and sunshine spills from the sky. Dean can't help it, laughter ripples through him, pouring forth and filling up the Impala. His life is full of irony, and for right now, it's the good kind. He looks over at Cas who is mouthing the words, and Dean joins in, belting the lyrics with feeling. It's another nine hours to Bobby's, but for the first time, his trip doesn't seem overwhelming. Cas smiles.


End file.
